"We Got What We Asked For"

1 Samuel 8

Israel Asks for a King

1 When Samuel grew old, he appointed his sons as judges for Israel. 2 The name of his firstborn was Joel and the name of his second was Abijah, and they served at Beersheba. 3 But his sons did not walk in his ways. They turned aside after dishonest gain and accepted bribes and perverted justice.

4 So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. 5 They said to him, “You are old, and your sons do not walk in your ways; now appoint a king to lead[a] us, such as all the other nations have.”

6 But when they said, “Give us a king to lead us,” this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the LORD. 7 And the LORD told him: “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. 8 As they have done from the day I brought them up out of Egypt until this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so they are doing to you. 9 Now listen to them; but warn them solemnly and let them know what the king who will reign over them will do.”

10 Samuel told all the words of the LORD to the people who were asking him for a king. 11 He said, “This is what the king who will reign over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots. 12 Some he will assign to be commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and others to plow his ground and reap his harvest, and still others to make weapons of war and equipment for his chariots. 13 He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. 14 He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his attendants. 15 He will take a tenth of your grain and of your vintage and give it to his officials and attendants. 16 Your menservants and maidservants and the best of your cattle[b] and donkeys he will take for his own use. 17 He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves. 18 When that day comes, you will cry out for relief from the king you have chosen, and the LORD will not answer you in that day.”

19 But the people refused to listen to Samuel. “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. 20 Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”

21 When Samuel heard all that the people said, he repeated it before the LORD. 22 The LORD answered, “Listen to them and give them a king.”


Now...Do you see anything in this historical account that looks familiar?

Our God is Sovereign and rules over the affairs of men...always.

wick jackson

A Life Lived Well...Tribute to Momma

7/2/11

As I look around the dimly lit room, I can only think, “This has truly been a life well spent.” Starting her first nine months in very cramped space she emerged a healthy baby girl on July 28th 1932. Momma is 78 years young as I write this, and unless the doctors are terribly wrong, she will not be with us to celebrate that date again.
Although she never lived in a mansion, she will receive hers in a very short while. She never had a huge bank account; she banked on Christ being all she needed. She never invested in stock futures, but invested in the future of others, knowing that those investments were the only ones that lasted. She was never invited to join any high society clubs, but could make a street bum feel like royalty. She never turned away a stranger that needed a hand up, hot meal, cup of coffee, or a place to stay till he or she could get back on their feet. And as I look around this room, and look on the bed where her now frail body lies, I am stunned at the privilege of having been a part of her life.
Nancy Jackson is my mother. She is…because she is still hanging on…but she will be in the arms of her sweet savior soon…then she will be…a was. She was a prayer warrior, a peace maker, a Bible reader, jokester, disciplinarian, lover, hugger, worker, feast preparer, softball player, champion laugher, counselor, camper, fisherman’s pal, furniture mover, artist, accountant, friend, church member, Christ Follower and much more.
I look around the room and see the photos of sons and daughters in laws and grand kids. There are photos of my mom’s best friend, Bill Jackson, and them, young and living large in a camper on a beach vacation. Photos of her with friends from Hebron Colony. Then there are the trinkets from inexpensive vacations taken by the middle class family hauling four boys, a mom and a dad. I still see the carved what-not’s that pop bought his bride up in Maggie’s’ Valley. On the fireplace mantel is a ceramic doll under a dome cylinder, a prized possession, that mom put on lay away in down-town Florence until she could afford to get it off the shelf in the stock room. Every item, photo, note jotted on paper, card, tie clip, and cheap jewelry has it’s own story that intertwines in all our lives…”My mother truly has lived her life well.”

Until I can say more…

wick

In Sync...Really?

On February 6th, 2011, The Black Eyed Peas performed at the Super Bowl for the half time show. To hear the media and the fans of the Black Eyed Peas, their performance was nothing more than miraculous, stupendous, incredible. The goo goo eyed media and fans said, “They set a new bar for excellence in a show.” Many of the adoring fans started cheering during a segment of the show when the group did some dance moves in sync. They were indeed in sync, heck, I couldn’t do that…not even with a lot of practice. But, was being in sync on a stage for a few songs in front of thousands of fans really that impressive? Not when you compare it to the Real Sync Master!

God has placed the stars and planets and universes and oceans and storms and winds and rains and time and continuum in perfect sync. Everything does just as it should and has since he spoke it into reality. God does all this incredible stuff by speaking it into existence and He rarely gets the applause that a group dressed up in high heels with bright lights sewed to their plastic suits…why is that?

Missions is a lot like that. People get all worked up on all kinds of other programs and busy work…but miss the most important show created by the One True Sinc Master. He created all this stufff for His glory and we get to enjoy it! We were created to be missional…to be in perfect sync with the Sync Master as we go into all the world to reach those lost and dying without hope.

...We Are Dust!

Genesis 2:7
Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

Psalm 90:3
You turn people back to dust, saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”

Psalm 103:14
for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.

Ephesians 2:1-13
1 As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, 2 in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. 3 All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh[a] and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. 4 But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. 6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast. 10 For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
11 Therefore, remember that formerly you who are Gentiles by birth and called “uncircumcised” by those who call themselves “the circumcision” (which is done in the body by human hands)— 12 remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, excluded from citizenship in Israel and foreigners to the covenants of the promise, without hope and without God in the world. 13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

John 8:6-11
But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.
9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
11 “No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”



Questions...

How do we picture ourselves in light of what scripture says clearly?

How do I explain my reason for making decisions I have made in light of scripture?

Is God’s Grace limited?

Do we deserve life eternal apart from God’s Grace and Christ payment?

Did you or I do anything for that lavish Grace?

How can we tell the lost about the love of Christ, if we rejoice when someone, anyone, as far as we can tell, goes out into eternity, not accepting that Gospel message.

It seems to me that the Good News is only Good News if we are willing to share it with people that are neither nice to us…love us…like the things I like…think the way I think…and don’t scare me with threats to harm me or my family in some way.

While we dance in the streets and celebrate a lost man going to hell for eternity…how do we turn to the lost person beside us and influence them to follow a savior that we can’t follow ourselves?

God is Sovereign….not us!

God help us…

Wick Jackson 5/2/11

The Beggar in All of Us!

Sometimes, when I am sitting and quiet enough to listen, God speaks to me. Maybe not through words, but through my surroundings. He did it again this morning as I sat at a salteña shop on the busy streets of Cochabamba, Bolivia. A place I call home.

There was always plenty of beggers on the sidewalks surrounding, churches, touristy areas, nice restaurants and even little snack shops before, but with the worsening economy in Bolivia, now there are more.

The streets, depending on the time of year, are loaded with short little Quechua men, woman, and children begging for anything you will give them. It is a huge business. Their families send them into the cities for weeks and months at a time to beg…not because they have to…but because it is a lucrative way to make a living…for doing nothing…but begging.

I had not been at my seat long before an old dirty woman with very few teeth approached me with a dirty plastic cup. As she stood slouched before me, she mumbled something incoherent. I, like the people she had approached before me, just motioned a polite, “No.” She mumbled something else and turned to the next person.

Soon, a young lady came to my table and asked what I would like. She was four feet tall with heels and had a beautiful smile and was working very hard going from table to table. She was doing a great job and I thought, as I looked at her taking orders and wiping off tables as people left, ”What’s the difference? Here she is working very hard and not five feet away…a group of beggars literally sit on the steps of the shop and beg for what they want.”

Then, sure as shootin, a couple in front of me, paid their bill, got up from the table, and did not leave one single coin for the girl who had worked so hard to serve them. But you know what they did? They walked down the steps, sought the beggar lady out…and gave her a coin. She must not have been impressed with it either, because she made a face at them and shoved the coin in her pocket without a single word of thanks…not even a toothless smile of gratitude. She got something that she had not done a thing for…she did not deserve it…but she walked away with the hand out…while the girl who worked hard for it…was passed by. The next thing I tell you will probably make you angry…especially if you have worked hard for what you have.

Like it or not…that is an exact picture of salvation. You, nor I, nor anyone else on this planet, deserves salvation. It is a gift to those who believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. We have not done a thing to deserve it. The entire price was paid by someone else…and yet, we reap the reward. We get the freebie. We are like the beggars at the stop signs and traffic lights and restaurants and snack shops. God has given us the hand out to beat all hand outs. We can’t be productive enough to earn salvation…and we still win the prize.

Next time I see someone with a sign or see someone with a dirty cup or hear about the same guy that just goes to the same place every day to beg…I think, I will think differently about him or her…I am no better. I am a beggar…just too proud to admit it…aren’t we all?

In Bolivia, Wick 4/8/11

"Leftovers Anyone?"

When we hear about the needs, we tend to think "leftovers" We hear a family is burned out...lost everything...we go to our closets and pull out the clothes that are old, worn out, and think..."I can give these clothes to them, since they need clothes so badly now, and get some new things for me."

Or we look at the toaster that is beat up and burns our toast after years of use and think..."They need a toaster...theirs got burned up...I could wipe this one off and give it to them and go to the store and buy myself a new one...I would like to have some toast that is not burned."

Or we go to the bathroom and get the old towels that are see through by now...box it up...send it to the needy...and go and buy some new stuff for us...Get the picture?

My guess is probably not...most of us really don't get it...we are fine with giving our leftovers. Thank God…that God…did not just send leftovers.

God made the ultimate sacrifice by giving not only the only one he had but the best that he had…and you and I are the beneficiaries of God’s incredible giving spirit.

Don’t wait, find out where a need is and meet it. Let’s be generous and give some new stuff or extend a strong hand or help pay an old debt.

James 2:15-17
15 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. 16 If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? 17 In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

"Mission Accomplished"....Really?

This morning, as I was thinking about the letter to send to praying friends and financial supporters the thought…”Mission Accomplished”…came to mind.

George W. Bush, wearing a flight jacket, stood in front of a podium, with a smirk and strong jaw line and announced…”Mission Accomplished!” Many of the crowd, there and at home watching on TV, broke into cheers and applause and for some… tears. It was the beginning of the War in Iraq.

That was many years ago and we are still fighting a battle in a part of the world that we understand little and care less about. The “Mission”, in that undertaking, was not “Accomplished” and may not be for many years.

The same is true for the “Mission” that Christ called us into some two thousand years ago. The mission, of reaching a lost world, has not been accomplished. In fact…it is far from “Mission Accomplished.”

McDonalds “Golden Arches” are more recognizable than the Cross of Christ, and McDonalds Corporation is still in battle mode. They have plans to put a burger, or fry, or shake in as many people’s hands as possible, from every tongue and tribe around the world. They are on a mission.

Envoy International is actively involved in seeing the message go to the ends of the earth. We have a rich history of reaching the nations through our own Envoy instructors who have gone to the hard to reach places…places that many missionaries cannot go any longer without causing a disturbance. Envoy is involved in first…teaching what scripture says about “The Mission”…second…in demonstrating how we live “Missionally” and third…encouraging others to get involved in seeing that “The Mission”…the one that Christ called us to…is the one we are truly striving to accomplish.


God Bless you…

wick jackson

Out of the Mouths of Babes

11/27/98

“Out of the Mouths of Babes”



The other day, I was walking through the house and noticed Maggie, my seven year old, singing the tune of one of our favorite hymns from my church. Normally, I would not have had time to notice but on the mission field with no T.V. and not too many other distractions, one can become more in tune to the every day things that go on around him.

Well, I heard Maggie singing, ”He is exhausted, the King is exhausted on high I will praise Him. He is exhausted the King is exhausted on high I will praise his name, He is the Lord…,”

I laughed at first and then corrected her and said, “No Maggie, it’s not exhausted, it is exalted”, the King is Exalted!" Then I explained what exalted meant, as best I could, so that a 7 year old would understand as best she could.

As Maggie walked away, I begin to think more about it. I thought, “What if our King was exhausted? What if he was absolutely worn out?” We’ve all hit rock bottom before. And it doesn’t only happen to parents! It happens to us all. It happens to kids with problems at home. It happens to students. It happens to coworkers and neighbors. Rich and poor. The pretty and the not so pretty. We get to a point, where, if we didn’t find a place to sit down or lay down… we were going to fall down. It may be we are physically, mentally or spiritually worn out, but when it hits there has to be a “crash site”.

When I thought about this more, my mind instantly went to a scene. I could picture an old king, in a massive dusty office, slouching in a huge chair. He is surrounded by mountains of paperwork that hadn’t been looked at in months. He looks as if he hasn’t left the room in days. Around him are all the knobs that must be turned at just the right time and all the gadgets that it takes to control the planets and stars hanging in balance and the rotation of each. His dimly lit control panel makes those of the Apollo projects look like something out a Cracker Jack box.

Some of the special assistant cherubs are rubbing the shoulders of the exhausted king of the universe while looking nervously at the blinking lights and the uncontrolled knobs. “Maybe another good hot pot of coffee for the king could be just what he needs to get a jump start” the angel in charge of the kitchen thinks. Other ancient helpers, who have helped the king since the beginning of time, are answering personal calls and making the proper apologies. And some are even answering the latest e-mails and making very believable excuses for their exhausted leader. “No, no don’t worry, the king is aware of the Pluto problem and is working on it even as we speak, yes have a nice century”. Another call, “Yes we have seen the movie and there is absolutely no need to worry about that meteor stuff. O.K. thanks for your call. Yes I’ll tell him you called.”

This king, like many other rulers of our time, would not carry very much clout with his helpers. Eventually, he wouldn’t carry very much clout with his followers either because word would trickle down that he was merely a puppet. It would be said that he is no longer capable of making small decisions much less long term universal plans. And what about that stuff about knowing when a sparrow falls and the number of the very hairs on our heads. We would begin to act as if our king was the exhausted king not the Exalted One.

It would become easier and easier to slip a little every now and then and mess up on one of the rules that the Exalted One had written eons before to help his followers lead happier lives. Outside influence would invade a once happier environment as more and more it became apparent that the once Exalted One had become the now well known and slipping more every day, exhausted one.

But, I have great news. Our Exalted King is still in control. Sometimes we act as though he is the exhausted one and we tend to be like kids caught with our hands in the cookie jar. “Surely he is too busy to care what we are up too”, we think. When lights go out and doors get shut many of us tend too believe in the exhausted one. But what about when a job is on the line, or a house is up for sale, or a dear child is seriously sick, then who. Which king do we want then?

Of course we want the Exalted King. In Job 38 and 39 the King, that I want over me, speaks: “Who is it that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man and I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what are it’s footings set, or who laid it’s cornerstone while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown dawn it’s place?” Gulp! Wow!

Even though an exhausted king may look attractive at times. And, even though I would like to think I could find satisfaction if only for a while in not following those commands given by my creator. I want to have the King described in the last part of Job looking over me. I want him in my corner. My hearts desire is to be on his team. Psalms 118:28 says, “ You are my God, and I will give you thanks; you are my God and I will exalt you.”




Wick Jackson

One Man's Trash is Another Man's Treasure...Honest!

11/24/10

I am sitting in the Atlanta airport waiting on a flight home…to Florence, South Carolina. I have spent the past week in Santiago, Chile and tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. I have many reasons to be Thanks-Full and so I am…giving Thanks.

I have some time to type out a few thoughts. I break, in between words, to keep an eye on the pulse of this busy airport. Today is one of the busiest travel days, of the year, in the USA and I am having a great time sitting here because I love to watch people.

I sat directly below and in front of the big screens that passengers use to find their flight and gate numbers. I study all their different expressions. Some are happy because they see that their flight and the gate is not in the next county, some curse because it is. Some take off running, screaming, at the rest of the family, that they will make it to the gate and hold the plane…right! Some stare at it for a long time and their lips move while they read all the information about the gates and times of departure…of every flight. Some look worried… many look confused. But for the most part, most seem hopeful. I want to tell you that I am Hope Full and Thanks Full for people that support us…in unusual creative ways.

I am Thanks Full for a group of people that love us in Marietta, Georgia. Because of them and others like them, my family is thanks full and hopes full. This group is one of the reasons that I am able to travel and do what God has called me to do. In a time when many people are complaining about the economic downturn and finances being tight, they found a crazy way to raise some money for my family to continue ministry. I asked my friend Benette to send me some details as to how they did it…here is her answer.

“As to details - it's pretty simple - bring stuff, advertise, have someone willing to host the event (Sandy and Haven) (of course she has her regulars that come to her garage sales), sit around all day Friday and Saturday, pray for amount and wait to see what God will do.”

There you go! It’s just that simple…but you and I know…that it is not…just that simple. For the folks like them, that think outside the box…I am Thanks Full.

The affect that this garage sale has is far reaching, life changing and eternity altering. Most of the stuff they bring to sale may not seem like a treasure to us, but to the people I am able to go and visit and encourage and teach and talk with and eat a meal with and listen to their dreams with and cry with and laugh with…to them…that trash was a treasure. And when I was leaving…I could tell…that a few of them…were also…very very Thanks Full and Hopes Full because we plan to return.

Thanks to all the people that think creatively and outside the box in order to invest in Kingdom work here and now just by making a treasure out of trash.

In the Atlanta airport…gate 31,
Wick Jackson

The Door

19 November 2010

I’m lying across an uncomfortable bed in my hotel room at 462 Marcoleta Ave. in Santiago, Chile wishing I were there. I hate that I cannot be with you all tonight but by the time you are all at the celebration…I will be teaching a small group of people, a long way from home, about world missions.

Before I understood what missions was, I learned about it at The Door, and from the men and woman that poured themselves into the lives of many young people…me included.

I want to thank the folks that invested financially in the old brick building, beside the tracks, at the end of Edisto. To many of us, it was not… just a building. It was the place that became a refuge, a safe place, church, the place for Bible studies, for prayer, for concerts, for our first experience in learning to be responsible for something, a place to bring friends…and still be cool, for legalized dancing…still leaving room for Jesus!

I want to thank the men and woman who loved us where we were at…and won us to Christ because of that. I want to thank you for not giving up…when giving up would have been easier…for not locking us out…when we should have been…for letting us try to help…even when you could have done it better and faster…for sitting down with us to have difficult talks…when most would have just dismissed us…God used you in our lives…and we were never the same.

I want to thank the men and woman who helped keep The Door open as long as you did. Your investment in that place was an investment into us. I looked over some recent photos and think…who were those freaks? They were us!

I looked at the photo of Knox and Betty at a soundboard. I am sitting beside them, smiling and having a great time looking everywhere else…I was supposed to be learning how to run a soundboard. As I looked at it, I thought, I am older now than Knox and Betty were then. And then I ask myself, am I pouring myself into anyone else like they did? Are we?

I want to finish by saying thank God for men and woman that weighed the cost and spent the money, time and energy to help disciple so many of us. My home life was not the same because of it…My home today is a reflection of The Door and its openness…Lives were touched and eternity was changed and will continue to be changed because of The Door.

I can never thank you enough for your commitment to a bunch of misfits…Thank God that He is Sovereign.

In Santiago, Chile

Wick Jackson

It's Not Just a Cup of Coffee...

Earlier this morning, I had a chance to take my daughter, Emily, for a cup of Joe. We walked into Starbucks and immediately started greeting people that we knew. As I stepped up to the counter, I was nudged on the shoulder. I turned to see a dear friend and as I said, “Hey Lou,” he placed two folded five- dollar bills into my hand and said with a smile, “Donna and I want to bless you this morning.”

I smiled, stepped out of line and took some time to speak to Donna and thanked them again. I stepped back up to the counter, tucked my debit card back into my wallet and handed the guy behind the counter the money that Lou and Donna had just given me. Money that I did not work for, nor was I expecting. I looked at Emily who said, “Daddy, isn’t that so good?” I said, “Emily, God takes care of us!”

Taking our free coffee and old fashioned doughnuts outside to sit at a round metal table and talk, we met some other friends, who had seen what Lou and Donna had just done. They commented on it and I smiled and said, “Isn’t that cool?”

Little miracles like this have happened again and again to us during our years in ministry. God has proven Himself, ready and willing to be there…Just in Time. It is because of the way that He chooses to do things, that I call Him a…”Just in Time God.”

This morning was a small thing…maybe an insignificant thing to my friends Lou and Donna…but it was a huge thing for me…because once again it proved to me that He is watching, waiting and wanting to show that He knows me better than I know myself. God seeks to prove to me that He is able to provide all that I need. I also love the fact that, God proves Himself in front of my kids.

Over the years, my girls have been eye witnesses to God’s miraculous provisions whether big or small and they have grown up witnessing that God is not only a “Just in Time God” but that He is a “Can Do God.” When things looked bleakest, God came through. When we needed cars…God came through. When we needed groceries…God came through. When someone needed a special dress…God came through. When we needed a vacation…that’s right…God came through on that too…and He did it…in most cases…Just in Time!

I want to encourage you to look for God moments, for the times when something that should not have worked out…but does. When you think you don’t have enough in the account to support a teen on a mission trip…but find an error in the checkbook…just enough to help send the teen…on a trip… that may change their life. I want to encourage you to do something crazy…not stupid, like going to the Hummer dealership when a used VW bug will do the job, but something crazy like…buying someone else something…or writing a check that may stretch you a bit…but to give it to someone who needs it. I want to encourage you to find out something that somebody needs…and go get it…brand new…and give it to them. Don’t give someone else your leftovers so that you can get a new one for yourself. Give someone your best…something that cost you something and then watch God work. Likely, He will do it… Just in Time!


The entire law is summed up in a single command: "Love your neighbor as yourself."
Galatians 5:14


10/6/10

Wick Jackson

Round and Round They Go....

In the small Bolivian city of Riberalta, there is a tradition. In the center of town, is the Plaza Central…the main plaza. Worn benches are placed under great shady trees that face the streets that circle the plaza. Where there is grass, in Riberalta, it is patchy at best and in the main plaza there is no exception. Picking the most strategic spots, the early birds, hog what shade there is, in the hot little dusty towns plaza. Folks sip lukewarm liquid through thin red straws that stick out the top of small plastic bags that they hold tight at the top. Some pick an ice cream from vendors pushing around small, two- wheeled carts. Folks gather, with anticipation, to watch the coming event. I was privileged to be taking a break between teachings and sat at a lazy café and observed all that was taking place.

At first, there were just a few, but soon, there was a squadron of motor scooters going around the plaza. Fifteen or so to begin with, but within a short time…there was at least seventy five in one wave…thirty in the next…twenty in the last group of stragglers which was eventually passed by everyone. As I sat and watched this migration taking place, I was amazed at what I saw and what I learned.

There were all classes of people going around the plaza and as the mass grew with each revolution, I learned a little more.

Among this mass of high pitched motors, it was so obvious to see those that “Had it,” and those that wished that they, “Had it!” It was easy to pick out the cool ones, and the not so cool ones. I marveled at the young, trying to look older and the old, trying to look younger. There were pros and beginners. I watched the evolution of a tradition that has gone on in Riberalta, Bolivia since the first thrill seeking Bolivian decided to take a spin around the plaza in his horse and buggy.

There was not a Harley in the group. Most motor- bikes were no bigger than a scooter, but many were decked out. Scooters and riders all went around and around and around the plaza. Some just riding around with their families, as if on a Sunday afternoon ride. Older couples…the pros…rode around this same plaza that they have been riding around since their first date as teenagers. I saw alert fathers navigating through the mass as if they were on a mission with two kids in between he and his wife, who was sitting side saddled and holding the third child and eating a single dip ice cream.

I saw happy fathers, apparently glad to just get out of the house, holding a baby in one hand and driving with the other. I saw young girls on their cell phones as they drove…the other two girls on the seat behind her were talking on their cell phones as well.

Then there was the family driving the beautiful Hummer, with more Bling Bling than Snoop Dogg. They rode the entire time barely moving while talking to the people next to them on scooters. I watched them go around this plaza, at least 20 times, mingled in among the less fortunate, and I wondered…why don’t they just pull over and talk?

I saw a young mother multi tasking. She was nursing her baby as she drove with one hand and talking to her friends who were riding patiently beside her. One dad, a young guy, found a good use for the same kind of plastic chairs we use in the back yard. He had positioned it between the handlebars and his seat on his decked out scooter…the kid sitting in the chair must have been the envy of his buddies because as they rode beside each other, he had that look of superiority that one can get when they have reached the pinnacle.

During this fairly peaceful time of just watching and enjoying all that was going on, I suddenly heard the ear piercing sound of a scooter with no muffler. It was easy for my ears to pick up the location of the offensive scooter and his driver. Sure enough, like the same guys that cruised the Sky-View in Florence, SC, in their muffler less, jacked up, Vegas and Mavericks…a wild man showed up running into the pack from a side street.

He caused great confusion and folks gave him angry stares and tried to get away from the maniac. He was a Bolivian version of, what some from the South might call, a Red Neck. All the jeers and sour faces only egged him on as he rode in and out of the smooth flowing stream of scooters, making helpless girls angry and stylish boys nervous. He had black spiked hair that blew straight back and a cigarette clinched between teeth that could use a little more care. Suddenly, he took off on a side street never to be seen again by me…but his loud scooter haunted the air around the plaza as he road around other parts of the small dusty town.

The most interesting thing about this whole tradition is that it takes place three times a day…every day. The riders show up in the morning, at noon before lunch and at night, mostly after eating. Not only that, but many families in the town of Riberalta come out in droves on Friday and Saturday night, to fall into the vortex like stream of motor scooters going around and around and around the plaza, mainly because…well…they grew up doing it…and they have always done it this way.

As I sat and drank my liter of warm Coke-Cola and ate a fresh hot cheese empanada, I kept an eye out for something or someone unique. I began to think how silly all this was and how much time is wasted doing the same thing over and over again as the same crowd goes around and around the plaza…and going no where. “How silly.”

Then the voice…that quiet one that many times shows up when I am passing judgment on someone or something that I have no right to be passing judgment on.

“Oh…and you don’t do the same?”

I realized who was talking, and knew that it was time that I should sit still and listen. I was about to receive a lesson…whether I wanted one or not.

“You, just like those people on the scooters, spend countless hours going around and around in circles. You have many opportunities to make an impact for the Kingdom but you would rather keep going around and around in areas that feel really comfortable to you because getting outside the circle or doing something completely new may upset the boat…or be too hard.”

“They are doing what they do, day in and day out, because they are following the traditions of men…who do you want to follow?

Remember Ephesians 2:10…”For you are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus, to do good works, which He created in advance for you to do.”

“So what are you waiting on? Why are you going around and around in circles following a crowd?”

I felt ashamed for just a second, and then I heard him again. No not Him…but the crazy guy.

I heard the loud obnoxious muffler, off in a distance, as the rider and scooter must have passed a street that connected to the plaza. In my heart, I must have passed judgment on him as well, because the voice caught me off guard.

“By the way…I like the kid with the loud scooter. He’s not marching to any bodies drum…and he likes to mix things up. Notice he didn’t stay in that mass of folks going around and around for long, now did he? Nope, he got the heck out of there. That’s exactly the kind of guy that I can use. Reminds me a lot of that first group of trouble makers I called to follow me…all those boys from Galilee.”

This verse came to my mind…

“When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus.” Acts 4:13

Sitting there, looking at the mass of people going around and around, I thanked the Lord for that excellent picture of what I had become. If I truly do not want to be like everyone else, then I need to stop following them, and start following Jesus.

In Bolivia….wick

9/17/10

Great Holy Laughter

Last night was the culmination of a week of teaching the Envoy World Impact Seminar. I would say that the house was packed, but we were outside trying to cool off during the teaching.

Because of the heat in this part of Bolivia, I waited until the last possible minutes to change from shorts and a lite shirt to long pants and a dressier shirt. By the time I had walked the 100 feet to the place where I had set up my power point to teach with...I was soaked. During lunch the other day, I asked one of the fellows at the table..."Do you have a winter season here?" He looked at me with great surprise and said, "We are in it!"

We had a great turn out of folks interested in missions. This little city of 42 thousand, is just catching on. If we were counting numbers, this city would have won the attendance record. Ten churches were represented among the 62 people that attended each night. Two nights ago we had taught on giving. We announced that we were going to share a need about a Bolivian missionary and that we wanted them to pray about what God is telling them to give to help this sick fellow. Last night we took up an offering after reading a letter from him. He is in Africa and has Malaria...Malaria is bad enough...but when you are single and away from family...those that care for you and watch out for you...it can be a very very lonely feeling. Many in the crowd last night were moved to tears even though they have never met this brother in physical pain. During one of the breaks...we took up an offering. To say it turned out OK, would have been what we expected for the first missions offering. But what God did was show me and others what He can do when He moves His people. Last night that small group of people raised over 902 Bolivianos. That's about $120.00 bucks. When it was announced, there was a huge applause from little round people who are normally very stoic. God had begun his work in the hearts of people in Guayaramerin even before we arrived. We can ready the horses for battle, but it is God who wins it.

Tonight I will speak to the youth. There will be about 70, they say. Pray that I will share what God wants me to share and not what I think is easy or fun to share. Pray with me, so that I will not dumb down the Gospel.

Tomorrow I travel to another city...two plane rides...some dusty roads...some warm Coca-Cola...and I will be there.

In Bolivia,
Wickisito

PS...I want to thank all of you who support us in our ministry...it is vital. Before I left,some brothers helped me financially so that I could be able to go on this trip. Many times during my travels, God shows me things that need to be taken care of with money that people have placed in my hand. These people in other countries, separated by thousands of miles and their cultural differences, may never meet their helpers this side of heaven. But...When we all get home....these faithful men and woman who give from their resources will be approached by people they had never met before....until then....and then there will be great Holy laughter.

Santa Cruz and Beyond...

I hit the ground running since the first day here...

We started out in Santa Cruz, Bolivia and I taught at the Seminary where I shared about the importance of Bi-Vocational work and missions. I shared from 1st hand experience how the Lord is allowing me to find work that helps us pay the bills and still stay working in missions. It was a great time and they seemed surprised that I would have to work in order to do what I am doing. I shared with them that 98% of people working in missions or the church in the 2/3rds world have to do so in order to survive. Great questions followed about what I thought would be a good business or line of work to be in...I asked them..."What do you love to do most?"

Next I took a 10 hour bus trip to a town where we caught a flight to the next town named, Riberalta. In Riberalta, we began teaching the first night to a packed crowd. The church had no roof on it because the men of the church were trying to remove and replace all the boards and metal roofing. We were able to teach in the building and under the stars at the same time. It was a great time and more than 70 participants sat night after night to learn about world missions and how they could be involved personally. I had a chance to speak at several churches before I left that city. It's hard to believe that God would actually have me speaking to people, that I never thought I would meet, about a subject that is so close to His heart...it's a real blessing.

Now we are in Guayaramerin, Bolivia. We arrived after a dusty 1.5 hour trip on red clay roads that go for miles and miles through the jungle. By the time we arrived, my white hair was pink for the added color. I welcomed the shower that night even though the water was freezing. After the much needed shower and a cold Coca-Cola I was taxied on the back of a motor cycle to my preaching engagement. I have learned to balance my large framed body on the back of a speeding moto while answering question after question from the fellow driving me. The second time a fellow hauled me on his moto he said..."Man you are big...meaning fat!" I said, "Yeah, and you are short....meaning short!" We both had a great laugh.

We have a group in Guayaramerin of about 80 participants. I am also teaching in the early morning on Ethics and Missions. There are about 20 Seminary students. It is fun to use stories from the Bible to teach on True Biblical Ethics.

At the internet yesterday I met a man, because he asked me if I spoke English. When I said I do, he asked me to please listen to this message on his phone and tell him what it said. I did, and then he wanted to talk more. He asked me what I was doing here in town and where I was from. We got past all that and then he asked what I do...."I am a missionary." His eyes grew closer as he concentrated on what I had said and he asked..."For Who?" I told him that I was Evangelical...meaning Christian. That opened up a discussion for the next hour. He was talking about all kinds of things and requirements and all about being a good person. Finally, I stopped him and said, "Brother I don't know about all of that, what I do know is that Jesus is Lord and that he died on the cross for your sins and mine and we can accept him and spend eternity in heaven...or we can reject him and spend eternity in hell." Jose got quiet. He asked me where I was teaching. I told him. He said that he would be there tonight. I said fine...."God Bless you." And I walked away.

Last night after I had already taught, they came to get me to tell me that I had a visitor. It was Jose. I pulled up a chair for him and he sat and listened for a while. Then invited me to go through his factory today...at 1030am. I accepted.

After he left, my friend Jimmy told me, "Wick do you know who he is?" I said he is Jose. Jimmy said he is the local priest and is well known in this area. I said...."No me digas?" You don't say?

Later the leaders of the Seminary asked me why the priest was sitting with me. I told them that he had questions about missions and that he had invited me to lunch today....they said...."No me Digas?"

God is so good...

Pray for me as I walk...no stumble... through the many doors that are opened up to me...I need your prayers

In Bolivia,
wickisito

When God Laughs!

“Hey bo, watch this!” God says that to me, in one form or another, many times during my travels. Each time, even though I remember the time before, it catches me off guard when I hear Him laugh.

It happened again today, when I was leaving the home of the friends that we stayed with in Asuncion, Paraguay. The Guzman family, Cesar, Graciela and their kids, has opened their home to us on three different occasions. Each time, less formal, we become more like family.

My Director, David Andersen, and I always try to take care of people that open their homes to us. This time, because of everything the family did to make sure we were very comfortable and because of the number of days that we were there, we decided to give them some money.

I wrote a short note, from the both of us, on yellow legal pad paper and folded it up with the money inside and put it on my pillow. We also left some money for Rosa, the housekeeper, who makes the best Cappuccino this side of…well… this side of anywhere I can think of.

I went next door to say goodbye and as I sat in the chair to wait for my drive to the airport, Graciela came into the room and quietly said, “Wick, take this money, we won’t be using it any time soon and I want you to have it.” It was Euros, and I was taken completely by surprise. At first I declined and said, “No, you and Cesar keep it and use it when you go to see Tomas,” their son in Italy. She stared at me, then at the money, then back at me, without moving the money away. That’s when I heard the first snicker… from Him.

She said softly, “No, we want you to have it. We won’t be needing it and you can use it as you wait in Brazil for your connection.” She held it out…and I took it and felt my face get warm, and as it turned red, Graciela turned away so as not to embarrass me more.

I did not mention that I had left money for her and Rosa. My ride to the airport pulled up, I kissed Graciela and Rosa on their faces…first one cheek then the other and as I did they returned the favor, a thing you become accustomed to as you travel around South America. My new friend Benny, a pastor, opened the trunk of his worn out car and threw my bags in. “Vamos,” he said in a rush, “Tenemos prisa!” He said, “We’re in a hurry!” I said a quick prayer, waved one last time to my friends and buckled up in the seat of the beat up car that would become my personal rocket to the airport. Benny drives like a man with a bad case of Turret’s…but on speed.

On the way to the airport, while having a rapid-fire discussion with my driver about world missions, his cell phone rang. He dug around in every pocket of his coat with one hand, trying to locate the pest, and kept one hand on the wheel. He found it. “Yes, yes, we are almost there, yes he is hear, hold on.” And Benny glanced quickly at me and held the small phone out, “For you.” As he did, he almost slammed into the truck in front of us, loaded with long metal pipes, because its brake lights did not work. He said something in Guarani, the local dialect, and pulled around them in fast-exaggerated jerky motions. I bumped my head on the side window as he manhandled the poor ole car and I answered the phone, yelling above the horn-blowing going on all around us.

“Hello?” Laughter on the other end, “Wickisito, hemos encontrado el dinero en tu cuarto! Porque estabas haciendo esto? No estabamos esperando esto de ti!” And again laughter. “Wick, we found the money in your room! Why have you done this? We were not waiting on this from you!” “You are crazy!” she said and I was sure that I heard God laughing!

I thought it was so funny that I was leaving some of the last money that I had because we wanted to be a blessing to them and then as I was walking out the door…The Guzman family won again, and became even more of a blessing to us! We laughed and laughed and Rosa got on the phone and cried while thanking me and I laughed some more. We exchanged greetings to each other’s families and said good-bye again.

Then I gave the phone back to Benny, who had just avoided a large pile up as he was laughing. He said, “Dios siempre se hace. El es grande, El es fiel! Gloria a Dios!” God always does stuff like this. He is great. He is faithful. Glory to God. Again, I heard laughter.

God always….always….does crazy things like this.

There is a dear friend, in my hometown, who knows when I am leaving town. Many times he calls me and says two words in his beautiful Southern drawl…”You home?” “I am, I'm packing.” “I’ll be right there.” I know what it means each time. Each time he is coming by to tell me that he is praying and to also sneak some folded money into my hand as if the FBI was watching us. We pray together and he drives off…just like that.

I cannot tell you how many times that money has somehow…miraculously been replaced each time I give it to someone in need as I travel around the globe. My buddy tells me to use it however I see fit…and I do…most times giving it away. The miracle of that is…many times…it is given back to me to do over and over each time I travel.

Each time, if I am listening closely and pay attention, I can hear God say, “Hey bo watch this,” and most time, more times than not, it is followed by His Holy happy laughter.

In the airport in Brazil, on the way home,

Wick

8-2-10

Westhaven

As we rounded the curve on the rough Jamaican mountain road, the tall chain-link gates seem to open automatically, leading us into the Westhaven Center. Spying our car, a young man let out a piercing scream that would have delighted Alfred Hitchcock. He galloped way too close alongside our taxi as it slowed to a stop. I took a deep breath and got out of the car.

Our nervous group looked around at those disfigured children who could not walk or run on their own. The screamer had made his way to the other end of the compound letting out screams as he went. Everyone knew that visitors had arrived and several residents headed for us. A few employees also coming our way helped us to relax a little. They had children hanging on them as they approached to welcome us. One young man had a huge smile, twisted legs, arms he couldn’t control, and a Frisbee in his right hand.

As I approached, his head snapped back, hard enough to make the two ball caps he was wearing almost fly off. In one jerky motion he shoved the large white Frisbee under his left arm and stuck out his right hand. All five fingers on that hand looked as if they had a mind of their own. When his hand came forward again with a jerk, I was able to anticipate where to catch it in mid-air, and did. To my great surprise, he spoke in a clear quiet voice and said, “Hello, my name is Keno. What is yours?” I held on tight to his hand, looked him in the eyes and told him my name, saying “It is a real pleasure to meet you.”

Trying to position his body, he asked, “So why are you here?” I said that we just wanted to visit. “Would you please take me over there?” he asked, motioning toward my group with his chin.

Keno was an instant hit with the group. As they got acquainted, I heard noises coming from a porch to my right. There were eight children, all twisted to some degree or other. None could speak clearly but most could make eye contact. Some could sense touch and enjoyed it; others didn’t seem to feel a thing.

I was drawn to a little girl with a beautiful smile and eyes that could not focus for more than a few seconds. I touched her soft twisted hand and held it where the palm and fingers seemed to grow together. I spoke to her and rubbed the back of her head and she seemed to relax, as if to say, “That’s all I wanted; that’s all I ever really wanted.” I said a silent prayer for this little girl, thinking about the verse, “The king asked, ‘Is there no one still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God's kindness?’ Ziba answered the king, ‘There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in both feet.’" (2 Samuel 9:3)

As I walked out from this shady porch protecting kids in wheelchairs from the sun, a happy young man with cerebral palsy greeted me. He begged for attention with loud noises, a big smile, and strong arms whose muscles and tendons were rubber-band tight. He wore a new cap with a stiff brim and carried a bright yellow tennis ball. One hand gripped the ball so hard that I thought it would explode, while the other hand grabbed my arm. He said, “Kuuun” (not able to make the “m” sound with a mouth that wouldn’t close).

Even though his stiff legs didn’t bend, he moved quite well by throwing one hip forward then the other. He reminded me of the Tin Man, only with flesh and blood, and very quickly we were walking arm and arm toward the other end of the compound.

A young boy with Down syndrome and a bad haircut followed us saying, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey?” Tin Man pulled me along, laughing with his mouth open in such a way as to sound like he was choking. The boy yelling at us was carrying a makeshift cricket bat. I never got his name, but I did get the fact that whether he ever hit the ball or not, he loved swinging that bat. I nick-named him Bat Boy.

Tin Man handed me a tennis ball and with grunting noises he got me into position so that I could bowl the “cricket” ball to Bat Boy. I worried about the folks walking around because he was so intent on the game, nothing else mattered. He was in cricket heaven – here were a bunch of new visitors who had not already bowled the ball to him a thousand times! He was making the most of the opportunity.

Tin Man and I got an unsuspecting visitor to begin bowling the ball to Bat Boy and we snuck off snickering, Tin Man holding his crooked fingers to his mouth as if to say “Shhhhhhh.” We left Bat Boy with a whole new set of friends and made our way along a well-worn path that passed Keno, the young man wearing two ball caps and a smile that drew folks to him.

The others in our group were being surrounded and touched and loved on, even if it made them uncomfortable. At Westhaven Center, personal space is not an issue – for them. The kids are drawn to visitors like moths drawn to light bulbs. Unconditional “lovers” walked up to strangers, held their hands or laid their heads on shoulders of people they have never met before. I thought, “This must be what heaven will be like; no barriers.”

The next thing floored me. As I walked along holding hands with Tin Man, we came to a young lady lying flat on her back. Her legs were twisted and small and hung off the end of her wheelchair bed. She smiled when I spoke to her and took me off guard. I touched one of her flipper arms and that drew the attention of her eyes. With a hockey-players smile with the front teeth missing she said, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, “And how are you, young lady?” I asked her name. She smiled and said, “Carey, my name is Carey.” Then she said, “My friend here,” motioning to her right with her eyes, “That’s Philutia, she can’t speak.” I spoke to Philutia and got an instant response, a shy smile, and she dipped her head as she blushed. I had almost passed Carey by because she looked so deformed, so twisted, so – well, so out of it. I learned that I was the one who was deformed and twisted in my thinking.

I had a pleasant conversation with Carey and through her learned the names of these special kids who were quickly becoming a part of my life. Tin Man’s name was William. When I said to him, “Your name is William,” he got the biggest grin and answered, “Yeeeeaaaah!” nearly falling over from excitement.

Carey introduced me to Kevin who leaned toward us as the intros were being made. He wanted to make sure that I knew who he was, and that he was important. And so he was. With tired red eyes, he crinkled his face to say hello when I spoke his name and touched his arm. Kevin was not able to speak but asked me to sit beside him by patting the bench he sat on. So I sat down with him. He wanted to hold my left hand and put his head on my left shoulder. Noticing that my right hand had a brace on it, he held it up and looked at me as if to ask, “What happened?”

I said, “I broke my finger so I have to wear the brace.” Then Kevin did something that completely turned me to putty. It’s times like these that the Creator gets my attention the clearest, so clear that words don’t have to be said. I was able to hold my composure with the Greeter, with William the Tin Man, with Keno Two Caps, with Bat Boy, and even with Carey who introduced me to all these misfits, but Kevin completely took me off guard.

He pulled my braced right hand up and held it tenderly, patted it on the top very gently and then met it half way up to his lips and kissed it. He looked at me and turned and kissed it again and then laid it on his own lap as if to say, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I will take care of you.” He laid his small hand over my braced hand and smiled, and stared out from under the canopy where we sat together.

As we all sat together, I thought about the scripture, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” (2 Cor.1:3-4) I sat with Kevin for a few minutes and wondered where he had learned to comfort like that, and if I ever would.

I struggled to hold back warm tears for people I had only met forty-five minutes earlier. Kevin sat content, cradling my braced hand on his lap in between his two small hands. He had a slight smile on his smooth face as he sat very still staring out somewhere I could not go, patting my hand ever so gently. I turned my head so passersby could not see the mess that I had become.

I watched Bat Boy and the players he had tricked into his game. He would swing like mad and not connect time and time again, but when he did, the fuzzy yellow tennis ball would fly off his bat like a Jamaican cricket champion had hit it and he would squeal with joy.

William the Tin Man went after a loose ball and almost caught up to it when his feet tripped on something that sent him sprawling like a giant redwood. Because his legs didn’t bend, there was no rescue from a straight front-on fall. Landing hard chest first, he let out an involuntary gush of air. Yet not missing a beat, with his strong uncoordinated arms he pushed his hips and rump high into the air until his locked legs were vertical and could support the weight of his upper body. Once up, he smiled, said “I okayyeee,” and threw the ball underhanded toward Bat Boy again. During this whole time, Bat Boy waited patiently as Tin Man, now covered with dry grass clippings, pulled himself together.

Watching everything going on around me, I began to get a little upset with God. I tried to absorb the tangled mess and twisted bodies, slow thinkers and droolers. The odd sounds of moans, squeals, grunts and faint crying could be heard. The tune came to my mind from a Christmas special I have seen since I was a kid: ”We’re from the Island of Misfits,” except here was no Charlie in the Box or elephant with big polka dots. These are people, fellow human beings who want to connect with someone else as badly as you and I do.

God was reading my mind and asked me if I would have done it differently. I looked at Tin Man, just standing alone and looking at something, his mouth agape and grass clippings all over.

I answered, “Yes, I would have done it differently. I don’t understand why they have to suffer. I don’t understand why some will never speak a word and others say way too much. Why can William the Tin Man hardly walk, while others are too lazy to walk down the street? I don’t understand why Carey will never be able to sit up but you gave her one good eye that she could focus with in order to introduce me to all these folks. Why does Trish have to sit in diapers and wait for someone who can read the slight signal she gives with her head and eyes that she wants to be pushed in the open yard and visit people and feel a breeze on her face? I don’t get it. No, you’re right, I would have done it differently.”

That’s when I thought I heard that still small voice and God said, “They bring me glory.” It must have been the Lord, because instantly I saw a video playing in front of me of the Kingdom to come.

Two huge stone columns were standing close together holding heavy iron gates that were swung open. These narrow gates looked strong, and people from every nation were walking through them. No one was pushing their way through but they all seemed quite happy to be there. All the people had a smile on their face and were welcomed by other folks standing around the gate.

I realized that I was off to one side, sitting in a grandstand, more or less. The stands were full of folks laughing and smiling and patting each other on the back and pointing to other folks hugging and greeting one another at the entrance. It was wonderful, because I realized that this was heaven and I had front row seats as folks were coming home for the first time, and last time; coming home.

I don’t remember asking the guy next to me anything specific, but he pointed toward the gate and said, “Watch this.” Although his voice was calm, it had an edge of excitement to it. He leaned forward a bit and placed a hand on each knee, smiling and watching. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze – and then the miracle happened. Everyone around me seemed surprised except for that fellow, who told me, “Watch this.”

Through the gates walked William the Tin Man, and as he did, he tested new knees and joints that had never worked before. In one of his strong hands he carried a bright yellow tennis ball that he bounced on the cobblestone road once for good measure. Then he looked over at us and smiled that huge smile that he always had, just relaxed now. He walked in with the grace of a prince, because the Creator had made him like one.

I was surprised when he walked straight over to the man sitting beside me and with unleashed charm said, “My King.” He bowed at the waist, raised himself again and made full eye contact with his King, who acknowledged the prince with the nod of his head. Keeping eye contact, William slowly backed away. Others gathered around him, old friends, talking to him and showing their honest surprise at the miracle that had taken place.

Then the King looked toward the gate again and said, “You’re gonna love this.” I caught my breath as I watched Carey walk in. She too had folks gathering around her, and started naming them one by one as she had done for me at Westhaven. Where her front teeth had been missing, she now had perfect new ones and smiled our direction. Carey also made her way toward the King, and as he stood, I witnessed His charm. He asked her, “And who am I, Carey?” Instantly she fell at his feet, kissed them, looked up into his eyes and said in the same sweet voice that I heard before, “Jesus. Your name is Jesus, and you are my Lord.”

He held out his arms and drew her to himself. Carey almost disappeared in the folds of the clean white clothes her Lord was wearing as he hugged her. She breathed in slowly and deeply taking in his fragrance and said, “I’ve never been able to hug like this before.” Then Jesus said, “There’s a lot more where that came from! Welcome home!” Loud applause filled the air.

No sooner had Carey walked off with a group of folks than we heard a great commotion at the gates. Walking arm in arm was Bat Boy and Keno, laughing and jabbing each other. Bat Boy had a beautiful new cricket bat balanced across his right shoulder, holding it with his strong arms. He wore the equipment of a champion cricketer and was saying, ”Hey, hey, hey, hey,” trying to get Keno’s attention who was talking to some old friends. Keno also had a beautiful smile and his hand and eye coordination was exemplary. He wore one bright new cap, so white it almost hurt my eyes to gaze on it. Jesus smiled while looking at them and said, “Wait for it, wait for it…”

Bat Boy saw him first. “Hey, hey, hey,” he yelled, pointing the bat toward Jesus. While he was yelling, he was trying to get everyone’s attention around him. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s Him, it’s Him,” and he ran to Jesus, leaving Keno well behind.

“Lord, it is so good to see you, oh yeah and thanks for this great bat, you knew exactly what I wanted!” A crowd gathered and the Lord said to Bat Boy, “Of course I knew what you wanted, I made you.”

Keno caught up with us and stepped in. After greeting the Lord with his big smile he said quietly and smoothly, “Lord.” He took his cap off and held it against his strong chest; “I want to thank you for all the years in the chair. I would have never understood your glory as I do at this very moment, without all the things you allowed in my life. You are worthy to be praised, you are God alone and there is no other.” As he said it, a great shout went up around us, and it seemed as if the ground and the trees and grass and bleachers and everything that was anything laughed and moved and shouted at the same time “You are worthy, you are worthy, you are worthy.”

“By the way,” Keno said, tapping Bat Boy on the shoulder, “I got something for you,” and he pulled a brand new authentic cricket ball from behind him. He threw it a few inches into the air and catching it with hands that worked, he gave a beautiful half smile to his friend. “Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Bat Boy was yelling and looking around, first at Jesus and then to everyone standing around and then back at Keno.

Keno motioned with a snap of his head, “Let’s go, the game is about to start.” Bat Boy could not contain himself and bolted away from the Lord. He was some yards away before he turned, “Hey, hey, hey, Jesus, are you coming, are you coming? I have always wanted you to watch me, are you coming?”

Jesus smiled as everyone looked back at him, “Charles, I have always watched you and you brought me glory, just as you have done now and will do for the endless days to come. Yes Charles, I will come and watch.” We all began to move in the direction the Lord was walking.

Charles could not remember the last time he’d heard anyone use his name, and he looked at Keno who said, ”Charles?” Keno giggled a little as he turned to walk.

We had not walked far when I heard someone ask me very softly, “And how is your hand now, Wick?” I stopped in my tracks, frozen. With all the commotion and newness, I had not thought about the friend who had touched me so deeply. I felt someone touch my hand from beside me and I turned to look into Kevin’s bright eyes. He smiled, crinkled his face and asked, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, “I am really so, so fine.” Jesus had paused because he knew Kevin was coming. We walked hand in hand and caught up with the crowd and Jesus.

Kevin approached him, and letting my hand go, he reached out to take hold of the Master’s hands. Jesus laid his hands in Kevin’s and then I saw it, the thing that brought Him glory many times and was about to again.

Kevin tenderly and compassionately kissed the Savior’s hands one at a time, looked up into his eyes and thanked him for all the years he couldn’t speak, so that when he could, he could thank his Creator for everything. He kissed his hands again and again.

Jesus smiled and said, “You have given me glory.” And we turned to continue toward the game with Keno and Charles, Carey and Philutia and William. We all walked along, sometimes picking up a pebble to toss to the side or grabbing a sweet blade of tall green grass to put between our lips.

It was glorious, more glorious and fun than I would have ever been able to imagine – but something was missing. It was like walking out of the door of your house and knowing that something is not quite right, not quite finished. I could not think of what it was and was snapped back to our walk when I heard Charles in the distance yelling, “Hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I thought he must have reached the field or found a new friend to bowl the cricket ball to him, but it was none of those things. It was not about him, it was about who he saw coming through the narrow gates. Charles had walked up a gentle slope overlooking the narrow gates and surrounding area, and so he saw him first, and we all heard him next.

Scripture was being quoted so rapidly and clearly and loudly that everyone’s attention was drawn back toward the narrow gates. Standing there was the Screamer, arms straight out making him look like a human cross. He stood tall and strong as he screamed:

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

A cheer went up, and again he screamed:

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

And again, cheers, and again he screamed!

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

After some of the cheering slowed, the Screamer threw his arms straight back, and like a beautiful hood ornament he ran at an incredible speed, screaming praise after praise after praise to his Father in Glory.

I looked at Jesus and he smiled and said, “I told you, they bring me glory.”

We could hear the Screamer shouting as he ran throughout the heavens, “Give Him Glory, Give Him Glory, Give Him Glory! Jesus looked at me, cocked his head as if trying to hear the Screamer one more time and said, “That’s my boy, yep, that’s my boy.” And we turned and continued our walk.

To God be the Glory Forever and Forever.

Wick Jackson

The Resemblance

Some years ago, on a wall near the main entrance to The Alamo in San Antonio, Texas, hung a portrait with this inscription:

“James Butler Bonham-No picture of him exist. This portrait is of his nephew Major James Bonham, now deceased, who greatly resembles his uncle. It was placed here by his family that people might know the appearance of the man who died for freedom.”

I read this, years ago, and it impacted me greatly. I have used the illustration many times to illustrate how we should be so like Christ that someone could say the same about us…

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth, no photograph of him exists. This portrait of________________________________, was placed here so that those who see it, may know the image of what a Disciple of Christ looks like.”

I thought of the same thing while visiting the building that Tommy Head and I built together some eleven years ago in Pucallpa, Peru. I have had the chance to visit the building many times…but had never been inside the structure since the day we finished it….that is…until the other day.

I went there with a team of friends from Biker Church in Florence, South Carolina. As Juan Carlos, our guide, began the tour he said as he smiled at me, “This is a building that Tommy and Wick built some years ago.” That was all it took to snap my mind back to those twenty-one days in 1999 that it took to build the structure with a group of Indians whom I still know and consider dear friends.

“Now let’s go in,” Juan Carlos said, “But I need you to be quiet, because the people in here are working very hard to translate the Bible into several languages, also, before we go any further, please take your shoes off.” I swallowed hard.

A chill went over me as we stepped forward, I thought I heard the belly laugh that only Tommy Head could make after sucking in a draw of air through a half closed grin. Familiar voices of the other men like David, Ricardo, Tito and Oscar that worked on this very structure, with T and me, so many years ago, filled my mind. I hardly spoke any Spanish then, but laughs and smiles go a long way on a construction site as I was learning this crazy new language.

Tommy never lifted a hammer, or touched a shovel. Our agreement was that he would be the logistics man and keep us stocked with material to build with and food to eat…at that…he was a pro.

I learned much in those days and now standing in the building for the first time after all these years was like stepping into a time capsule. I would have never understood the significance of what we were doing at the time…even if I would have known that this very building was going to be used to assist in the translating of the Bible. I have learned much about missions since that day.

Juan Carlos stood beside the small short bookcase of Theological books that were used to help in the translation work, I thought, “I have more books in my own library.” We moved forward, on the left was a lady working on a translation, on the right a group of people, native and international were working on another translation. At the end and on the left men and woman were working on a tribal language of Peru and finally in the end room on the right a small man with thick glasses sat in front of an old computer screen. His feet hardly touched the ground as he sat in a plastic chair, the kind we would use in a back yard cookout. Behind him sat another young man, maybe nineteen, who had a laptop that he used to assist in the work. These two men were not just working on translation of a new Bible for a tribe…they were working on the creation of it.

This particular tribe has of yet gotten a written language. It has always been a verbal language…no letters exist in its language. Before the Bible can be translated, they must create the letters of the language. The room of the small building that Tommy and I and four Indians built many years ago was being used to communicate the gospel. To reach people I would never meet this side of eternity. To change eternity. I found myself reflecting again and hearing voices of my friends and hearing Tommy laugh quietly this time and he asked me, “Aint that cool bubba?” I answered him and had to step outside to get some air.

As I did, I was shocked to see Glenn, the younger brother of Tommy. Many folks think that they look very much alike. Glenn makes quite a stir when he visits Pucallpa, Peru and the people that knew Tommy come up to speak to the brother of the man they loved and remember with great admiration. I must admit, that the quick glance of him caught me off guard as I stepped around the corner to go outside. I saw him silhouetted in the doorway by the early morning sun. I could hear T…a short snort and then laughing again.

Glenn turned to face me. I too, realized just how much he and Tommy resembled one another. As we talked about Tommy, and how he would have liked the tour today, we also remembered how much we still miss him…and probably will until we all go home.

I asked someone nearby if they could take a photo of the two of us…they agreed. A few minutes later…when I had some time to take in what was happening with this very small building…in a very large universe…I looked at the photo of Glenn and me standing together…and I thought immediately of the friend that could no longer stand with me and of his brother who still could…one that resembled him so very much.

I thought once again of the inscription on the wall so many years ago at The Alamo. These are the thoughts that came to me…



“This is a photo of Glenn Head, the younger brother of Tommy Head. No photo of Tommy exists with this important little building on a small base in Pucallpa, Peru. A photo of Glenn was taken so that those who look on it may see the likeness of a man who loved life and the people that crossed his path.”

God is Sovereign…In Pucallpa, Peru…Wick Jackson

The Reluctant Traveler

The rain soaked mountain road snaked around parts of the Andes between the high city of Coroico down to the lower pueblo of Arapata. Arapata, Bolivia is said to have the highest quality coca leaf in the world, and as we traveled the road, we saw endless fields of cropped branches of the short valuable plant on any patch of ground big enough to be planted.

Three straight days of cold howling wind and rain drenched the entire area from Argentina to Peru. The Sur, or southern wind, came on with a vengeance making normally difficult roads even more dangerous to travel. In the last five days, forty-one people had died on a section of the road known as the most dangerous in the world…the Yungas Road, better known as the Death Road. That was the road that we had been traveling back and forth on in order to teach our World Impact Seminar and so had the people who came to hear it.

The last day of the seminar, we were in the small adobe church when someone came in and spoke in whispers to three of four seated on the hard straight back wooden benches. Suddenly, a new energy filled the room where some of the Quechua Indians were doing their best not to fall asleep as they warmed up in the church. A young girl, Hiedy, came to the front of the church and asked for us to pray because a family from the church had just gone off the mountain road between Arapata and Coroico. Elders from the church were forming a group to go and see if there was anyone alive or if all had perished. As we began to pray, the small group of hard working mountain people, who had certainly all lived through this before, began to cry as they petitioned the Lord for a miracle.

An hour later, we left the church. I promised to be back the next day, Sunday, to preach…if it was God’s will. They all said, “Amen.”

Thirty minutes of winding and slipping on the road back home, we started seeing some vehicles pulled off to one side of the road. Then we saw, up ahead, a large group of people, some looking over the edge of the mountain and some just mingling. As we pulled over, I thanked God, as I saw the scene.

Only a few trees and some high jungle foliage had stopped the van. I asked the first person I saw…”Are the passengers OK? “Si, todo esta bien, Gracias A Dios.” “Yes, everyone is o.k. Thank the Lord.” I saw the destroyed van and as I thanked the Lord, I fought back tears for the father who was just walking passed my open window, in a stupor. His daughter and wife had already been taken away from the scene. He smiled at me with tears in his eyes. He knew, like many of the other believers gathered to help…that, “it must not have been their time.”

I told the people traveling with us that I was getting out to help…and we all poured out of the van. Long thin ropes stretched down the hill some 75 feet to the front axle of the van. Another steel cable was connected to a 4-ton winch that was wrapped around the trunk of a huge tree by thick chains. As I walked up, I heard the winch clicking off the distance between the tree and the van…the van inched up and as it did the crowd, men and woman heaved on the rope on two and heave…two and heave…and the mud covered van inched it’s way up the steep fern over growth.

As I walked up, I asked if I could help. A young man said, “Por su puesto!” “Of course!” He walked toward me and offered me a pair of heavy gloves that he was wearing. I thanked him and said, “I can use my hands like everyone else.” The crowd smiled as I grabbed the thin slimy rope. I leaned forward to get a good hold and was hit immediately by the strong odor of coca being chewed. Many people in the Andes mountains chew the leaf to help with the altitude, with hunger pangs and with the cold…and this group, men and woman was no exception.

The small steady raindrops made the most beautiful white noise as it fell on the jungle leaves and road. As we were making progress, the rains strength began to grow and sounded like a million fingers snapping in unison. Again it was beautiful. Working together with people I had never met before for a common goal…and now with urgency.

We had pulled the van up to within twenty-five feet of the roads edge. The rain and cold gave us a new burst of energy and with all we had, we pulled the ropes. The group of about fifteen to my right side went down like wet sweaty dominos when their rope snapped. Without losing much time the rope was reconnected and the pulling continued. The van inched it’s way up to the top as we continued to pull all ropes relentlessly and as it came over the ridge like a great whale out of water we all cheered and patted one another on our backs.

The mass of rescuers smiled at me with green stained teeth and lips. Several offered me the leaf holding it out to me between their nasty fingers…I declined but thanked them anyway… got back into our van and headed home down the same muddy mess of a mountain road.

As we continued our way around the hairpin turns I thought about the promise in the scriptures. “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11.

I looked out over the vast span of mountains and valleys and thanked the Lord for this journey that was stretching me further than I was comfortable with as I tried to trust Him knowing that He must not be done with me yet either!

From Bolivia…

Wick Jackson

7/19/10